Fabulously Himself
by shaadiaThePrincessOfWeird
Summary: This entire fanfic is, completely and utterly, dedicated to one particular fabulous, devious, charming, smart, sassy, sarcastic shank. Seriously written hilarious drabbles. Am I talking about Minho? Shuck it, yes I am!
1. Chapter 1: Too Fabulous To Care

**A/N; Well, why waste time talking about myself when I'm about to write a whole series centered on Minho? Just to let you know, my main forte is the Artemis Fowl series, but I'm a major TMR fan too. And since we are completely and utterly in love with Minho, my friend Yumna and I have come up with these drabbles to showcase his fabulous-ness further. Credits for writing go to me, but most of this first chapter was her idea. Don't take it seriously, it's a shucking joke and doesn't go in line with the first book's story, but here we go anyway!**

—••

The walls of the Maze had shut themselves, sealed them off from the Glade about half an hour ago. Along with their doorways to the outside had gone the sunlight, leaving the three unfortunate Gladers leaning hopelessly against a damp wall, listening hard for any _shcnikk __sckikk _noises heading their way.

Thomas sighed, exasperated. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't too sure of what he'd say if he were to open his mouth, so kept reasonably quiet with an air of somehow vigilant confusion around him.

_Riiip._

Thomas and Minho turned towards the source of the tiny noise, both secretly hoping for some kind of food to have...um, fallen off the wall or something, but were instantly puzzled to see Newt jotting something down on a piece of paper he'd torn off a time-tracking notebook.

Newt simply passed it over to Thomas.

_Hi._

Thomas raised an eyebrow, didn't react in any way besides look at the thing a couple of times, only to have Minho snatch it away from him the next instant.

Minho's reaction was a sordid eyebrow raised, a sour face, and a reply scribbled back on the paper.

_We're trying to keep quiet, hide from grievers, find food, survive the shucking maze, and what the klunk are we doing with a shucked notebook instead?_

Newt shrugged.

_Beats me, but it serves the purpose of keeping quiet, ryt?_

Thomas nodded, reasonably impressed.

_Ryt._

Minho snatched the piece of paper again, scribbled down an agitated reply, and passed it to Newt.

_Well, I have to klunking squint to see what you've written in this dark. Not my problem if either of you have to request a pair of shucking glasses tomorrow._

Newt snorted. "Did it occur to you that your replies are the longest?" he whispered.

Minho scowled. "At least I didn't start the game, dude."

Thomas simply reached for the mini torchlight inside Minho's pocket and passed it over to Newt. "If that won't attract any Grievers..."

The second-in-command accepted it at once and started writing again.

Newt: So, quick question. Why has it never occurred to us that we should just build a ladder to literally get over the walls, ever? (Our actors thought of it, after all)

Minho: Because that would be a shucking big ladder that would take two years to build, and the story wouldn't have a plot if we could do that.

Thomas: But couldn't you, like, have a Keeper for building ladders or something?

Minho: *snort* Keepers are supposed to be cool, like me. Keeper of the Ladder sounds dumb. I'm sure James Dashner found it dumb.

Newt: James who?

Minho: Wait what?

Thomas: What story plot?

Newt: You mean to say you have no clue of what you're saying?

Minho: Of course I do, shank, I'm just too fabulous to care.

Newt: ...

Thomas: ...

An awkward silence followed. Then again, they were never really talking, but this particular stretch of silence was as awkward on paper as it was in real life.

Thomas: ...you're too fabulous to care?

Minho: *shrugs* I have more Fangirls.

Newt: I HAVE MORE FANGIRLS.

Thomas: ...there are no girls in the Glade.

Newt: Oh.

Minho: Well, let's just presume that there are girls in the Glade. I would have many more fangirls than either of you.

Newt: Excuse me! I have a better haircut!

Thomas: Well, what about me? I'm sure I'd have quite a few.

Minho: Slim it, they're all going to be busy chasing me. *fabulous hair flip*

Thomas: You can't do a hair flip.

Newt: How did this conversation even start like seriously.

Minho: You're saying that because I'm winning the argument, dude.

Thomas: Does anyone even care about Grievers anymore?!

Newt: Exactly!

Minho: No.

Thomas: Well since I'm still new, I do.

Minho: Relax, Tommy, we can kill 'em off with our combined awesomeness.

Newt: Da klunk...

Minho: I was being sarcastic.

Newt: -_-

Minho: ;)

Thomas: Da klunk am I witnessing

Thomas was completely baffled in too many ways, and "Da klunk am I witnessing?" was the only way he could express it on paper, so he chose then to sit back and watch Newt have his literally silent argument with Minho.

Authors, plots and fangirls. He didn't know how much more of the Maze he could take.

—••

Reviews are appreciated! :)

NEXT CHAPTER; What Minho Does After Dinner


	2. Chapter 2: What Minho Does After Dinner

—**aAuthor's note; Special thanks to the fabulous Minho fans who reviewed, followed and favourited. For the story, please consider this as an AU to the first book when it comes to how long Thomas has spent in the Glade by now. This one is pure #fabulousminho, so sit back, relax and enjoy!**

**Chapter Two; What Minho Does After Dinner**

**—••—**

Dinner had come rather late thanks to a certain Glader throwing a tantrum in Frypan's kitchen (Minho and Newt had dealt with Gally appropriately following this. You don't want to know where Gally is now) and everyone now lay in whatever sleeping spots they could find. Not that half of the Glade wasn't awake listening to the suddenly louder shrieks of the Grievers drifting to them from beyond the sealed walls. But that wasn't possible as of yet. They were safe at least for tonight.

"Can Grievers climb over the walls?" asked Thomas in barely a whisper as Minho stood and headed for the Map Room.

"Frypan must've cooked something nasty into that omelette," muttered Minho without a backwards glance. "Did you find any tentacles, Shank?"

Thomas was momentarily caught off guard. "No, but can the Grivers—"

Minho placed both hands behind his head and stretched. "If you got questions, you ask 'em in the Map Room. I can't stall my work."

"It's only one question!"

The Runner didn't reply, or at least Thomas thought so, because he was then walking uninterrupted towards the Map Room. He could've sworn that he'd heard Minho say something like _Too fabulous to care, dude._

Wondering what could possibly go wrong, Thomas stood up and followed, glad that Chuck was too busy sleeping to notice.

The Map Room was the same as it had been since the day Thomas was picked as a Runner. Dusty, brimming with boxes of scrolls of paper, the table and the model Maze all in place. Minho happened to be studying a couple of maps and doin what looked like tally marks on another sheet of paper.

_If he had written his "Fabulousness" all over the walls, I'd be shucking panicking. _Thomas cleared his throat.

Minho appeared to notice but promptly ignore. "Oh hey dude."

"Yeah, about my question—" started Thomas.

"They can't," replied Minho nonchalantly. "You should've asked that the first night you spent here."

Thomas nodded. "I have another question."

Minho groaned. "Slim it, dude. Go wake Newt up and ask him."

The younger boy pressed on. "Well, you said that Grievers come out only at night."

"Uh-huh. They like looking at the pretty stars."

"You _also _said that I was the first to survive a night in the Maze."

"Because you're both stupid and brave. But more on the stupid side."

"If you put those two points together, how did you even know that the Grievers existed? After all, their sounds could've just been recordings played at night by those WICKED people."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Have you been watching Honest Trailers?"

Thomas shrugged. "Still a pretty good point though."

The Keeper turned to face him with a look of absolute seriousness. "Listen, Thomas," he said darkly. "It's a life lesson I'm about to tell you. Listen up."

"What?"

"Pay attention! You must _never, ever, ever_—"

"Go into the Maze at night?"

"_Never _judge a book by its movie."

—••—

**HASHTAG #fabulousminho IF YOU LOVE HIM! :)**


End file.
